


5 Incredibly Evil Doings™ as performed by Crowley after the Apocawasn’t

by ProdigyBlood



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Crowley Loves his Houseplants (Good Omens), Crowley and Anathema are friends, Crowley tries his best but he's not really cut out for evil, Established Relationship, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 11:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19767070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigyBlood/pseuds/ProdigyBlood
Summary: Crowley tries but he just isn't cut out for being evilOr:“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished. “You can’t turn people into ducks!”“Why not?”“You justcan’t.”“He was a dick. Got what he deserved.”“Crowley.”





	5 Incredibly Evil Doings™ as performed by Crowley after the Apocawasn’t

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this very quickly while being rather sleep-deprived (seriously, whoever turned up the heating in UK, can you put it pack down please and thank you) so sorry that it's not very good but I had the idea and I just rolled with it. It was originally meant to be 10 points but I am too tired and hot to use brain any longer...

**5 Incredibly Evil Doings™ as performed by Crowley after the Apocawasn’t:**

  1. **Shopping**



Anathema had broken her leg and Newt was away, doing who knows what. Probably breaking computers in Norway or something, Crowley didn’t know and didn’t care. All he knew was that Anathema had broken her leg and she wouldn’t let either angel or demon heal it for her. 

“People will ask questions if my broken leg is suddenly _not_ broken,” she’d pointed out. “Especially the doctor when I have my checkup next week.” 

The problem was, what with Newt being away and Anathema being housebound, she couldn’t go shopping.

“I’d ask Them but they never get what I want. Just candy, mostly, and not even the sugar-free kind. And I don’t trust home delivery. They never get it right and they substitute with the most bizarre things.” 

Aziraphale, of course, had happily agreed to do her weekly shop, declaring that it would be ‘his pleasure’ and ‘fun’. 

Crowley didn’t think it would be fun. It seemed like a waste of time to him. They could just miracle her fridge full and not even have to leave the comfort of bed, after all.

“You don’t have to come, dear,” Aziraphale had told him. 

“Of course I don’t,” he agreed. 

He’d gone anyway. He wasn’t very well going to make his angel catch public transport all the way to Tadfield when he could get them there and back so much faster. 

That was how Crowley found himself sauntering along the aisles of Tadfield’s only supermarket. It was every bit as boring as he’d expected it to be. Just for something to do, he occasionally tossed something that wasn’t on the list into the trolley Aziraphale was very humanly pushing (he was even _humming)._ Each time, the angel would tut and take it out again, making sure to put it back in the exact spot Crowley had plucked it from. He was no fun. 

After the fourth or fifth time this happened, Crowley decided to change his approach. Whenever Aziraphale wasn’t looking, he’d slip something random into a passerby’s basket or trolley where he was certain they wouldn’t notice until they got home and unpacked.

As all good things do, eventually this had to end. 

“Dear,” the angel said sternly. “Did you just slip something into the woman’s trolley?” 

“No _p_ e.” The demon popped the P as he spoke, a shit-eating grin unfurling across his face. 

Five minutes later and his angel was glaring once more. “Crowley. I just _saw_ you put that jar of Marmite into that mans basket.” 

“Well, there’s a fifty per cent chance he loves it.” Crowley shrugged and brushed past the confused looking angel. “We nearly done yet, angel? This is boring.” 

“Almost,” Aziraphale said, sighing. He started to push the trolley again only to witness Crowley slip a DVD (entitled Fifty Shades of Grey – the angel briefly wondered what kind of film it was) into the trolley of an old woman while sniggering. 

“You are despicable,” the angel said, though he couldn’t stop the fondness that leaked through.

“Of course I am,” Crowley agreed happily. 

When they finally reached the checkouts, Crowley slipped thirty packets of chewing gum into the trolley of the man juggling two whinging small children behind them while Aziraphale was busy paying.

  1. **Ducks**



They were feeding the ducks at St. James Park for old time sake. Well, Aziraphale was. Crowley was lounging across the bench, his head in the angel's lap and one leg bent at the knee. 

A human man in his forties was walking past. He stopped, frowned at them and shook his head. As he started walking again, he remarked, snidely, “ _disgusting._ ”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed and Aziraphale sighed, mentally preparing himself for the demon to start shouting. However, Crowley didn’t open his mouth. 

The man did disappear, though. 

Aziraphale started to ask where he’d sent the man when a quack drew his gaze downwards. 

Where the man had been standing, a duck now stood instead. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished. “You can’t turn people into ducks!” 

“Why not?” 

“You just _can’t._ ” 

“He was a dick. Got what he deserved.”

“ _Crowley._ ”

“Relax, angel. He’ll turn back in an hour.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale thought about that for a moment. “That’s alright then.” There was a long pause but then, unable to contain himself, the angel spoke again... “Only an hour? I think he deserved at least two.” 

Crowley cackled. “That,” he said, “is why I love you.” The demon pulled himself up slightly until his lips met Aziraphale’s. 

The angel looked quite pleased with himself.

  1. **Coins**



Crowley giggled away to himself as he peered over the wall. The kid had been trying for a good minute now, attempting to dig his nails underneath the coin and pry it from the pavement.

Eventually, he’d have to give up. Crowley had used the best superglue on the market. There was no way that thing was coming free. 

He cackled as the boy finally stomped his feet in a tantrum and stormed off. 

“My dear, what _are_ you doing?” Aziraphale had joined him. Crowley had thought he’d seen the angel spying on him from the bookshop window. He supposed if he didn’t want to be reprimanded then he shouldn’t have performed his Incredibly Evil Doings™ outside A. Z. Fell and co. 

Then again, there was something oddly sexy about the angel reprimanding him. Maybe that was why Crowley always got up to no good where Aziraphale could see… 

“Glued a two-pound coin to the ground,” the demon said proudly. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“Really, dear. Don’t you have better things to do with your time?” 

“Well, I do _now._ You done, yeah?”

“I have closed up shop for the night, yes.” 

Crowley raised a surprised eyebrow. “You were open?” 

“For the last ten minutes,” Aziraphale said. “I closed again because there was a young lady who rather looked like she might buy something.” 

“ _Oh_ , couldn’t have that.” Crowley smirked, casting one last look at the coin which had now attracted the attention of a teenager and then offered his arm to Aziraphale. “Tempt you to dinner?”

  1. **Bookshops**



Crowley wasn’t really sure what he was doing hanging out with Anathema Device. She was human for somebodies sake! Crowley didn’t have friends and he certainly didn’t have human friends. Somehow, and Crowley couldn’t really remember the details thanks to copious amounts of alcohol, they had arranged lunch though. Sober Crowley had felt too guilty to back out after Aziraphale had reminded him a half-hour before he was due to meet the witch. 

_“Her legs only just healed, Crowley. She could probably use the excuse to get out.”_

_Guilt_. He shuddered. Sometimes he hated what his angel did to him. He was a demon, not a teenage girl. He wasn’t meant to feel guilty about anything, least of all cancelling plans with ‘the girls’ (well, one girl but his point still stood). 

Surprisingly, lunch had gone alright and Crowley had found himself following the witch when she’d said she just needed to ‘pop into Waterstones for a minute’. 

That had been half an hour ago. 

Crowley was Bored. Bored with a capital B. 

He’d amused himself for a few minutes by swapping sleeves between several of the hardback books. If he were lucky and the patrons didn’t check, teens who wanted soppy YA romance would find themselves leaving with horrifying ghost stories and perverts seeking erotica would leave with gardening manuals. It had taken some effort to find books that matched in size, but Crowley was proud of his work. 

Still, even after all that, Anathema was unmoving as she curiously browsed the occult section. 

“You know,” he saddled up to her, “I could jusssst tell you this stuff. The truth of it, not this bullshit.” He gestured to the books to enforce his point, all the while using his most tempting voice. The witch didn’t bat an eyelid. 

“That’s alright,” she said primly. “This bullshit works for me.” 

Crowley had skulked off again after that. Being friendly with humans, especially America human witches, was more effort than it was worth. Aziraphale better reward him later. 

When Anathema finally came to find him ten minutes later, carrying one measly paperback, Crowley was using his demonic miracles to turn the page of some woman’s book every time she put it down to eat another bite of cake in the customer café.

“You’re not very evil, are you?” Anathema said with a small eye roll. 

“I’m plenty evil,” Crowley growled defensively. Just to prove it, he made the book slam shut, startling the poor woman who had just picked up her tea. It had been sitting there for a while so when it spilt over her fingers, it was only lukewarm and didn’t burn her. 

Crowley clapped his hands in satisfaction and Anathema once more rolled her eyes.

  1. **Plants**



Crowley’s plants were terrified of him, this was an undeniable fact. They literally quivered in fear when he was in eye line. It was impressive, seeing as plants didn’t have eyes. 

Today he was being especially brutal. Probably because Aziraphale had just left, after showering as much love over the plants as he possibly could. It was sickening is what it was.

“Don’t think that just because Aziraphale comes round more often that you can get sloppy!” he growled threateningly. “He’s not here to save you now.” 

He strode up and down the corridor slowly, examining the quaking plants with careful eyes. If he couldn’t find anything to shout about then they’d think he’d become a soft touch and would let the angels soft-spoken words get to their heads – figuratively speaking, of course. 

Crowley couldn’t allow that. 

Unfortunately, thanks to the angels' praise, the plants were all but glowing.

“Aha!” The demon thought fast. “Your leaves are turning yellow!” He rounded on a small, very green plant – one of his newer ones. “Look! There!” He snatched up the quaking plant. “What have I told you all, huh? I warned you, I said you had to pull your weight if you wanted to survive here.” He held up the plant for its friends to see. “Say goodbye to this loser. He couldn’t cut it and now he’s gonna pay the price.” 

Every plant in the room _knew_ there was nothing wrong with their friend. Crowley _knew_ this. He also knew that they knew he knew. That was the whole damn point. 

He held the poor little plant up for them all to see as he slowly sauntered from the room and into the kitchen. He did his most menacing walk, the one that involved even more hip rolling than usual. Before he vanished from sight, he turned to give them one last glare. 

Once in the hardly used kitchen, he placed the trembling little plant on the counter and sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the terrified little thing.

What was he meant to do with it? He glanced to the windowsill where the other condemned plants lived happily, free from Crowley’s yelling. There wasn’t any space left. 

“Relax,” he told it. “I’m just gonna repot you and move you somewhere else.” 

Despite the reputation he strived to maintain, Crowley had never once destroyed a single plant. He wasn’t a _monster_ after all. Not that he wanted _them_ to know that.

He’d had to bribe Aziraphale with food to stop the angel letting slip his secret. 

Talking of Aziraphale… Maybe he’d give the little plant to him? Maybe the angel would stop insisting on showering love over his plants if he had his own to shower love upon?

Then again, probably not.

Crowley smiled at the thought of his angel and, quite miraculously, the little plant blossomed a beautiful flower. 


End file.
